Return of an Empire
by The Lord of Nothing
Summary: The world has seen peace and war, but since the destruction of the Black Arms the races that were once under their thumb live free now. An Orian science vessel has found an pod from the Black Comet. What dark secrets lie hidden in its shadows?
1. Prologue

**Return of and Empire**

**Prologue**

**Space, the final frontier.**

**What a joke! Majon Rezer had been told that too many times for it not to sink in. In all his life, he had dreamed of the exploration of that final frontier. Flying through the great void, fighting against unknown foes whose barest thoughts could decimate planets. All those things that made heroes. Made you famous. **

**However, fate normally, and maliciously, throws you several curve balls. Instead of being put on a destroyer like a graduate of the Okun Military Academy should be, Majon had been stranded with a bunch of geek scientists on the **_**Eltonweil**_**, a science vessel. A**_** botany **_**science vessel. Studying plants, fungi, and diseases. The most dangerous weapon on the entire frigate was a torpedo tube. One tube. One blasted tube that wouldn't do anything against any of the real ships in the sky. **

**Majon ran his head over his bald skull. He was pale like any of his race. As an Orian, he was slightly lanky and tall with deep blue sparkling eyes that shined out of his porcelain skin. Unwilling to wound what remained of his pride any further, his military uniform lay in a closet in his quarters. As captain of this whole blasted geek convention, he could get away with a more causal form of dress. As such, his Federation garb was red with no true additions other than his rank as captain of this vessel. No medals penetrated through the fabric like so many of his fellow graduates. Beside the uniform, he had a half finished mosaic of some ancient Earthly leader named Julio Caesran or something along those lines. He planned to give the thing to his sister, Tammith, who was a junior in a transfer high school on Earth, and she was the top student, with an unnatural love for the historic art. Well, at least, that's what the humans and Mobians said.**

**Entering the bridge wasn't the most dramatic affair that Majon had ever experienced. At every one of the desks, navigators and/or scientists waged virtual wars against the figures and vectors that their computer screens were expelling. Complaining that someone in the assembly line of the figures had goofed. Much of it all was the same, day in and day out. Somehow, Majon was unsure of how they accomplished the feat, but there was a married couple that worked on Deck 4 who were, how you say, unusual. No matter what happened, no matter what glorious and radiant mood they would start the day with, a transmission would come up to the bridge with both of them, blasted, frayed, hair on fire, soaked, being choked by plants, etc . . . all the while screaming that the other had did the other wrong in some way or another. **

**It was a period of the day that was both a blessing and a curse for the aptly bored captain of the science rig. Whilst the two Orians were both very amusing when their squabbles reached the bridge on the holo-vid, they became increasingly annoying to all on the bridge, including him, as their battles wore on. So, to make the day even more troublesome than it already was, as captain it was his duty to resolve the combat before it 'escalated.' **

**Clangs and clamor against folded steel were the signal. Groans came from all mouths aboard the bridge, jealousy for all the crew members who had never heard of this sort of thing. Majon gave the geeks a shrug before answering the incoming transmission from inside his ship. "Alright what is it this time?" he inquired, hoping that it would be something they had never done before. He needed something new on this dull day.**

**The couple was, of course, just like his opinion of everyone else of this hellhole of a ship: geeky. The husband, like all Orians, was bald with some form of tattoo signifying his work. Such as a green mark of a cut leaf to show his position as second-in-command of this whole bloody thing. He was rather young, around twenty-three years with those ugly horn-rimmed glasses from earth just solidifying his embarrassing nature. A young age for a scientist, even in this age where a child had been elected Holy Sovereign of Ori. Thankfully, she wasn't a child any more. Near his age, anyway. Nevertheless, the husband, Osma, he believed his name was, was also one of the few Orians who had any facial hair. A small goatee on his chin made the science officer have a roguish look about him. At least, that's what his wife said. **

**Speaking of her. Unlike male Orians, women let their hair grow to their shoulder blades at least. Hers were a little past, with a little bit of flame, minute in size, singed at a strand on the left side of her pale face. Dark green eyes glared through the holo-vid, burning holes all around. Sometimes, Majon wished she could really do that so that she could glare him though the floor of the cruddy place. She was lithe, like almost all Orian women were. Even if they were scientists, the entire race received a basic military training. A small laser rested on each of their belts, and thank God they forgot them every time this sort of thing happened. **

"**That's it, captain!" Mem said, with the strong, somewhat light voice that was noted of her. She continued her tirade. "I want to be moved to a different deck. He is incompetent! Foolish! And downright lewd!" **

**Osma griped a pipe in his hand above him. "She is only fooling herself, captain!" It was always the same. Majon just tuned them out after that. He was tired of their bickering. It was as if they had their seventy-fifth anniversary yesterday. It was an every day affair with these two. **

**He should have listened to mother and become a writer. The more he read Shadow's books, he wished he had. Last night he had finished Champions of Ravenloft. It had been one of the few Shadow titles involving the fantasy genre and it was pretty good. He had never really tried to get into that genre but now that he had read it, he wished he could have gone to the Raney School of Arts, but oh no. He had to listen to his father and head off to the academy. Now he was stuck with these two.**

"**. . . a mass that large in space could not possibly be one living organism!"**

"**What?" said the captain, now jolted out of his daze of longing for sanity. "Repeat that."**

**Osma gave the captain' strange look but resigned a sigh. "I said, **_**captain**_**, that my brain-dead wife found a anomaly out in space." He gave the woman a glare which she had no qualms in returning. "A pulse of a life force ninety degrees to our left. Not only that, but her computer also seems to be picking up a signal radiating from the thing. We both know that's impossible, right captain?"**

**Maybe jumping out the airlock was a better option.**


	2. Shoot Me Now

Chapter 1-Shoot me Now

The day had started off bad, so science would indicate that the day would end disastrous. Osma and Mem shot dirty looks at each other the whole way to the hanger. Expressions of pity and empathy for the captain were shot frequently. Majon wished he could join them while some other poor bloke took these two off to meet their maker. As such, said maker seemed to have a sick sense of humor.

The _Eltonweil_ had been designed with very little excess or luxury in mind. As such, the two exploration vehicles that had been procured for the vessel were as high as 'luxury' went up on the list. Amongst the crew they were nicknamed Cloaks for their black paint, the ripple effect that the flaps made on the back, and for the head shaped viewing at the front. Though in all official Federation reports they were known as BRN168s, the name stuck even in the top brass.

The thing could seat a team of five comfortably, but if pressed it could do double that load. That was, of course, if you valued your mission over success. Unfortunately, the current and previous generations seemed to have been plagued by this strange infection for some time.

Majon looked down at the exploration vehicles in muffled depression. He had unanimously been chosen as the best pilot in the whole of the science division. He would admit that he was a fair pilot, but the honor was as undeserved as his completion was undone. He would have no chance of having the title if he could only land a place on a real ship like the _Blackstaff_ or the _Pendragon_. Real ships with real technology that won wars and saved lives.

He slid his hand across the scanner. With a few beeps and boops, the electronic computer confirmed his identity and let him proceed. The couple followed suit, not in the least bit worried for the 'adventure' to come; only which could one up the other. Osma would glare, Mem would glare. They might shout a few profanities at one another, then all would be forgiven and they would keep everyone awake for the remainder of the night. It was a never ending cycle that only seemed to behoove the insanity in the cosmos.

They approached Cloak-2 and once again engaged in identification with the ships computer. The data lock was removed and they boarded the vessel for the nuttiness to come. Majon strapped himself into the pilot's chair while Osma walked to the seat parallel. Mem was seated in seat behind Majon, her portable scanner jacked into the Cloak's system. She had wanted to sit at her customary chair but thankfully she had complied with the captain's orders and sat behind him. The last thing Majon needed was a divorce suit starting its race to oblivion under his watch.

Spreading his thoughts and will into the machine came natural to him, as much as the spreading of his palm to begin the process. Majon closed his eyes and began to focus within the workings of both Cloak-2 and the _Eltonweil_. He spread his thoughts into the guidance system to unlock the data hinges that held the plasma window in place. Without it there, it would be a clear shot out into the void.

His mind entered into the world of data procedure. Law in a binary form. Light and numbers flashed all around him in preordained paths, set forever to perform the same job eternally, perfectly. He spoke aloud the code to remove the plasma window. In the realm of the physical, the electrified gasses dispersed back into their containers. Majon returned to the land of the organic and revved the engines. There was at least one pro aspect to the Cloak. When the engine turned, only an ASRL race craft could match the sound. Like an Elvian tiger purring under his scratching hand.

The Cloak lifted off the ground pushing away the magnetic restraints. Majon Pushed forward with his will and like a bullet, it shot forward.

Yeah, this was fun.

Cloak-2 rocketed into the void. Majon resisted the urge to shout with the momentum of the craft. His companions were having a less savory time. Mem had closed her eyes and was mouthing that the lift had never happened and this was all just a strange side effect of sleeping pills. Osma too had closed his eyes to the experience, though not in fear. Like the captain before him, he had entered into the mainframe of Cloak-2 to enter in the coordinates for their venture.

Majon, truthfully, didn't care whether or not the scientist preformed the necessary data turns to send them to their destination. The freedom of space was exhilarating. He had taken an air piloting course on Ori. Suffice to say, there was no comparison. The freedom of air and the freedom within a void were too rationally different things. Air was something and took space. A void was empty room. A room waiting for the right person to bring the right tools to clean the walls of its secrets.

"The life signals emitted from a quadrant of space known as the Dead Void," Mem said, her voice and her attitude back in the hands and tongue of its owner. "There are no reports for things that venture into the area. Not even the overdone "never came back" tales. There is just nothing. No interest has ever been attracted to this place."

Majon looked out into the space that surrounded them. He could see why nothing had attracted any of the famous space explorers and their successors. There was nothing. Faint lights of distance stars could be spotted like a cluttered street with pinpricks of candles lighting the way. No planets space junk littered the way. Only the blankness of a black canvass.

He looked out into the darkness. Majon had been fascinated by the sky since he had taken a trip from the entire planet of Ori to the Federation capital of Earth. While the planet itself was nothing to sneeze at, which he hadn't, the journey there had become a post in his memories. Utter vastness, the desolation that could have been there and the art work of construction that could be there. Anything was possible with a black slate to begin with.

The scanners seemed to pick out the signal that Mem had detected. She couldn't help but give a look of triumph to her husband as she held forth her hand. Osma glared at the palm but nevertheless conceded the field by withdrawing two credits and handing them to his wife. Majon acted like the ordeal had never happened. He had said very early on that gambling aboard the ship was allowed, so no fault could be legally found with the aspect. Still, using this whole trip for their own pride, that would come back to bite them during promotion season.

The computer brought up a visual of the item in question of their search. At first, the _Eltonweil's_ commander believed it to be just a blob, a defect in the screening technology. The scanners seemed to be off the charts when detecting the life source. Pumps and veins, masses of muscle jutted out from the construct like a painting from the nineteen-nineties. Majon looked to see a gas like spray spreading from certain tubes.

The couple was in utter confusion and shock from the sight they beheld. Their years of study upon the subject of biology had led them to discover many varied uses of life and sinew. This was something familiar yet had been abandoned back in the Federation's earliest stages, when it was merely a collection of nations on the capital planet. The Black Wars had turned the moral eye away from the expansions away from the usage of biotechnology on such a scale.

The pod of biomatter bulged and pulsed like a heart, pumping unknown substances all throughout itself for only God knows what purpose. Majon took in a diagnostic from the ships scanner. The heat sensors were strangely barely picking up much residue while the life scanners showed a flurry of activity. The cornucopia of confusion never seemed to end.

"Let's get closer," Osma said, running his own programs within the computer.

His wife turned to gape at him. "Are you nuts! That thing could be a weapon left over from the Black Wars. Who knows what foul attachments that thing has hidden under all that sinew!"

"That's the whole reason we need to get closer," her husband responded, his voice full of eager zeal that startled both the captain and Mem. "I do agree that they were not the most merciful of races, but their advances in the field of biology was further than any other race in the known universe! This is what we signed up for!"

A silence conquered the rest of the noise in the small craft. Majon was unsure of how to proceed. His study of the mysterious Black Sons of Ildrama had shown them to be, as Osma had said, the best at what they did. Of course they were like the Earthly Nazis. Their best came from merciless slaughter and oblivion. To turn around and take what had been used for such deviousness and attempt to transform it into a scientific breakthrough, would that honor the memories of the monsters who had made it or worse, spit onto the graves of those who had died in its construction?

"Captain," Osma said, "we can do something great here. Push the ship forward for investigation."

Majon wished he had a retort to respond to his underling. He bit his lower lip. He couldn't show weakness and indecision to Osma or any other member of the crew. "Very well."

He stretched forth his will and pushed the Cloak-2 out deeper into the void, closer to the pulsing monstrosity. The closer they came, the blanker the blankness around them seemed to become. Majon looked to see if the feeling that had come over him was only occurring upon himself. The couple did not notice his unfathomable discomfort. Only the scientific magnitude that awaited them.

The closer they approached the pod of flesh, they could see a black and reddish like ooze, not dripping, but flowing upon the surface of the biotech thing in splotches, like a ripped dress of mourning, showing the mangled body beneath. The captain opened the protocol for the Cloak to open its exterior camera and mechanized claws. As soon as the lens had activated, the recoding of the exploration had began.

"Date, March 4, 2310. Captain Majon Rezer of the Orian science vessel, Eltonweil, Toclafane system, quadrant 1059. Upon receiving a strange signal from the nicknamed Dead Void, myself and two of the crew, Osma and Mem Cera, boarded a BRN168 and went to investigate. As you can see, our discovery was a bit more than just a glitch in the system. It seems to be alive, yet cold. A cold blooded creature of some sorts that seems to have adapted to the frozen void of space. My crew members aboard with myself have deduced that it is some form of biotechnology. We know neither the creator nor the purpose of the creation. I believe that this is a Black Arms relic from the Wars. Taking steps to dissect the purpose of the item in question and will require a further investigation of the source."

Majon rubbed his forehead in agitation. The reports would be sent electronically to the _Eltonweil_ back to Ori. Even after he had completed the task they would give their say so upon the matter. Such bureaucracy should never have corrupted the Children of the Prime.

Osma took control of the electronic claws. Mem directed the scanners via her portable notebook and the Cloak's own mainframe. The titanium pinchers stretched forth to touch the monstrosity. They latched onto the flesh. The grip of the metal was strong and the flesh, though the appearance was bulbous, was firm. Osma began to pull the flesh mass toward them. Sweat formed on Majon's forehead as the mass came closer and closer, an imaginary noxious fume crusading though his nostrils. The bulbous flesh came closer and closer.

It was theirs.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The scientists were equally eager to begin work on the new discovery. Majon let them have it. The less the thing was in his hair the better. Only Mem seemed to be put off by the new project and amply refused to work on it. She did have the right to refuse, but Majon had to have all his best staff on the subject and she grudgingly went to work. Though he wondered where she learned to get such a powerful arm.

_Eltonweil_, save for the observatory, had been transformed into a crypt of noise. Nothing, not even the beeps of the computers, were conducting their constantly annoying symphony. The entirety of the bridge had been made into utter silence. All minds present not on the task of navigation or communication. No, the bulbous mass that rested in observation with several probes and needles hooked into its epidermis. Christmas had come early for the crew of the _Eltonweil._ Their lives seemed to have a meaning beyond the everyday experimentation with leaves and ferns. Now, ancient biological technology had come to their doorstep, with promises of secrets left unearthed since the fall of the Ildramic Empire.

With the remainder of the crew left within la-la land, Captain Rezer retired to his quarters. The crew dismissed his leave of absence with little fanfare. A more correct would have been a deficiency of fanfare. Without their new toy to play with, the geeks would have made his early night into a shirking of duties. How ironic.

Locking himself within his quarters, he pulled out the mosaic and began to put little colored tiles into the correct slots the inlay had dealt out to him on the cardboard. He wished he had brought more books in his digital library, since they had shown themselves to be rather fast reads. Now, all that was left for him was the expectant call of an enraged politician, the joy of discovery amongst the scientists and the completion of the Roman General.

Majon grinned as he completed the Loral wreath that hid Caesar's thin hairline. He was almost done. Just a few more tiles to finish the background. He put a dark brown tile into the correct space and grinned as he was that much closer to his sister's joy.

A resounding crack shattered that dream with profound displeasure. Caesar's thin hairline had been made even shorter as tiles fell to the floor like a pitter patter of weights upon the captains spirit.

Just shoot me now.

**I'M BACK! ! I know I've been told to stop with the maniacal laughter but I just couldn't resist. So sorry for the lack of updates. Life, recovery, and my own distractions impeded the process of these stories. I know a number of my viewers are pissed at me for not updating in so long. My bad. I do wish to notify one thing. The story I have been working on, Champions of Ravenloft, while not a fan fiction, I hope it will go on to be a true novel. Keep those many fingers and tentacles crossed. **

**Anyway, back into the wonderful world of Captain Majon Rezer. Yes, he is an OC. I know that many of the folk out here in the business of fan fiction despise these people with a passion. I can understand that, you want to see the characters you love portrayed in the written word. Don't worry; while he is a major character, this is still ties into the whole Return series. Majorly. **

**Rant aside, let's get onto the reviews:**

**White Keyblade Oathkeeper:**** Welcome back to the Return series! Been a long time since I heard from you, I hope you enjoy the series as I will as I'm back aboard. **

**DemonOfLight69696:**** You, I can welcome fully to the fanfare! Just so you don't get confused with the referencing, I'm not sure if you have or not, but take a look at the prequel, **_**Return of Gerald's Legacy.**_** Though I think this one will be better written, I hope you enjoy it. **

**Flowergirl220:**** Hehe! I know you were getting on to me for this and now I am back in the business! SHOW BUISINESS! HeHe! You were right on Osma's name. I was looking around my dad's office for a name or something I could transform into one. I saw a book that had Osama on the cover as it was talking about his evil and terrorist acts. I do that a lot in certain places, most of which I have forgotten by now. That or I just make them up off the top of my head!**


	3. Light in Darknesss

Chapter 2-Light placed in Darkness

Light, the sun, the stars, and in our souls, only there in minority. In the vastness of the universe, they are candles holding back the great darkness that threatens to snuff out that very same light. The darkness is clever. Its weapons are many and they are all poisoned. Anger, hate, vengeance are its marks. Grief and sorrow are the scars that are left behind in the carnage of battle. In the eternal war against that same darkness, soldiers of the light falter. They cannot all survive in the destruction to come. Either in spirit or body. For many, the darkness drives them from the very light they fight for and fight on the side of the umbral destiny, all in the name of the same light they have turned away from.

Light is fragile. Its beacons and paragons are as thin as eggshells. The road is narrow and the fall wide. Many have traversed the road, fallen into the pass, but been pulled back up by circumstance, or the aid of a friend. None have stayed permanently upon the path. As mortals are, they are prone to failure. It is so easy for the darkness to push and pull the young, the old, and the infirm from their parapets of self-righteousness.

The dictation was over. She thought. The speech was fair, in her opinion. Though, she admitted, she was her own worst critic. The Collage of Elders would praise her work with endless favor to gain her approval for their legislations and movements. She had thankfully grown tactful enough to know which of these movements would actually aid society or were just to line the pockets of the Elders and those within their pockets.

She took the digital notepad to her forehead and gave a silent blessing upon it. More and more the Generals of the Mount supported succession from the Federation. But her words had fallen upon deaf ears. They had been insulted in some way by the Congress of Planets. What it could be, she couldn't fathom. Their arrogance knew no bounds when the dice rolled across the table.

The young woman put down the pad and went to the balcony, the back tassels of her robe almost reaching the floor. It was blue with brown stripes drawn in an eldritch style that seemed have to been lost on many of the more plain worlds. Beaded tassels hung from the stitches, striking together like celestial angels. Like all Orians, her face was pale, but even more so with the facial pain that had been installed into her flesh at an early age. Her skin was white, white as the sheets of her bed, soft as them as well. She could not disagree with the young politicians who commented upon her features. However, even though many were willing, her office made it rather impossible to find any of the opposite gender as a significant other. The laws forbid that the Holy Sovereign of Ori ever copulate with any man and/or woman of any species.

She sighed as she walked up to the balcony; her golden eyes sparkled in the rays of the sunlight; the capital city of Machicv's marble superstructure almost glowing in the morning light. One could compare it to the crumbling Rome of Earth and the still building Panri of the Conclave of Warriors. Only Machicv was the middle point of both great cities. The heyday. The prominent piece upon the jewel of culture the Orian people symbolized. While the leading race, and a distant cousin to the Ori in many ways, humanity had lost much of its sense of purpose. Only to build a better tomorrow at the cost of their freedom: the cost of their principles.

Phosphera looked down amongst the people of Machicv. They watched in utmost contempt as the Generals tried another military procession, banners high, weapons and blades at the ready, polished to the point of blinding brilliance. As soldiers of the federation, they held their orders to the "T". The war that many believed was only in the minds of historians and writers.

She looked down to see a multitude of races congregating in the college of sciences. She wished—no dreamed, as wishing would bring her more sorrow—that she could still attend the children's schools and be like her sisters and brothers. They had grown be successful without ever taking to the family business of lies and deception. Only she, paramount amongst her siblings, had to pick up the banner and join the congregation of beloved people who never even wanted the damn job.

The masses continued to flock to the university. Multiple times this year, the college had been questioned for its usage of the 'old technology' for its research. While perfectly in the bounds of the law, Dean Prower been brought to several debates. His radical behavior was far more, depressing, and abound with wishes for privacy. She had finally called for the inquires to stop as her Minister of Intelligence had told her that the Dean's mother, Cosmo, the noted biologist and last of the Pure Seedrians, had passed away in the garden her husband had built with her.

There had been no fanfare or send off for the old woman. Her children and their families had been completely quite concerning the affair. Only Dean Lucas Prower seemed to show some outward signs of mourning: a drive to bring his mothers work to fruition, whatever that may be.

Phosphera smiled. She would join the people in search of what the Dean or one of his associates had to present to the populace.

She stopped and smiled even wider. Her Minister of Defense and caretaker had both gone to negotiate with the Generals on their plans. Never before had she been presented with such an opportunity. Phosphera removed her tasseled robe and other symbols of office. To wear them would attract too much attention. She jaunted to her wardrobe. This was going to be so much fun.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She found herself in chaos. She had never strolled the streets of any city as a free woman before and now she could make any decision her heart desired. This was THIRILLING!

Phosphera passed through the crowded market of the city. Though a very modern society, the Ori like many other races preferred the art of haggling over goods and the open market space was where some of the greatest little intrigues in the galaxy could happen.

The air filled itself with the comings and goings of the very diverse populace that entered through its maws. Anthromorphs in their various arrays of furs with human and other companions made a large group of the host of many a shop. Ori populated much of the masses with coin purses ready to buy anything that could be bought.

The sun shone through the semi-glass ceiling that veiled over certain areas of the market. The ceiling had been constructed so that the multicolored glass only outlined certain areas other ceiling that opened up into the sky. These skylights were not only for sunlight to enter, but also masterfully made a picture of a leafless tree, branching out to the people below.

Some of the things on display she found intriguing, some disgusting and some of the 'goods' made her feel slightly embarrassed. Other than the occasional house of ill repute, the Grand Market of Machiv was a plethora of wares and goods from across the galaxy, Martian ice water, drug gasses from Jupiter, Acerin lion's teeth. There were plants that were grown from across the galaxy, pets and animals that had the potential to outshine noble ladies in their greatest finery.

Speaking of pets, she looked out to see a small stand where a young, human woman sat, her wares untouched and herself leaning on her hand and wrist. She was pretty in the standards of humans, though she hardly looked like she possessed any significant other. Her form stood as willow tree, bent over not caring for the hassle and bustle that surrounded it.

The young woman was fairly young for a human, around the age of sixteen or so, maybe older, maybe younger. She had long blackish-brown hair and deep brown eyes that showed her to be more than disinterested at the market's construction. She probably gawked at the wonders as a child, now a distant awe and only part of the scenery.

Her stale housed many a little animal. Mostly the little things were from Ori but a few had little distinctions from other areas. Little furry squirrel like things with an extra set of eyes and ears and dogs with forked tongues and slit eyes. The stranger the better in the far reaches of the galaxy. The stranger, the more special little quirks that mercenaries and bounty hunters would kill for and did.

However, these little beasts did not seem to be of the same breed that the head hunters would use to find their quarry. They mostly seemed rather normal looking pets for an intergalactic market. That seemed the precisely reason not a soul could be found emptying their pockets for these little darlings.

"Hiya," the girl said, very unenthused for the arrival of the newcomer. Though, Phosphera could really say she was the most glamorous thing in the Grand Market. She has stolen a pair of worn breeches form the laundry. She would return them along with the leather jerkin and over shirt she had taken before the owners found them missing. It might not be good for public relations either if they found out who the thief was.

The Holy Sovereign of Ori returned the greeting and the girl resumed her habit of staring out into the crowd, the most boring expression that Phosphera had ever seen on her face. Phosphera passed over a few of the animals. Many of them acted accordingly to their current owner: bored out of their minds. They didn't rise at her approach nor did they seem excited for any of the happenings that made way in front of them.

Phosphera was slightly disheartened by these tamed animals way of greeting her. She had watched in envy as a child as normal children played with their family pets, whether that is flesh and blood or gears and circuitry. The happiness had been denied to her as well as her brothers and sisters. They were nobility, supposedly above the concepts of happiness and joy. What utter crap!

A little mewing sound brought her attention to the side of the vendor. She turned and looked at the occupant of the electro-cage. Looking through the blue plasma substance she could see what had made the sound. It was a little feline, cat of sorts only that its brilliant green eyes seemed more angles and its long ears tasseled slightly with strange bits of fur, a darker shade of purple than the rest of the feline's body. Most extraordinarily was that the cat's tail split near the end of it, much like a tuning fork, ad seemed to be vibrating as one.

"He's a bit antsy."

Phosphor rose quickly and bit her tongue to stop the curse from escaping her lips. He head kneeled in pain as the hovering messenger droid floated away howling its own profanities at the young Orian.

"Sidio."

"What?" Phosphera asked, still holding onto her head.

The woman gave a shrug and brought a little digital magazine from under the stand. "His name is Sidio," said scrolling through the digital pulp fiction inlaid within the electronics. "He's a Radeian. A feline whose parents were shipped from Colso."

Phosphera looked down at the little feline again. The Radeian as the girl had called it did not look as if it had come from the harsh jungles and mountains of Colso. No matter. This was the first thing that had spotted her notice. "I'll take him!" She declared.

That got her attention. The girl fell off the little stool she had been sitting on and grunted in pain. She got back up and looked at the disguised ruler in shock. "Y-You really want to buy him?"

Phosphera looked at the young woman quizzically. "Is there something wrong with him?"

She had never seen anyone shake their head so fast. "No! No! No!" she confirmed, as if desperate for the credits. "Sidio is perfect for you, Ma'am!"

Phosphera raised an eyebrow. Though she couldn't say she liked the calm that surrounded the little thing, she had never said anything about perfection.

This had turned into a very strange day.

"Nevertheless, I'll take him,' Phosphera finalized and handed a few credits to the young lady who seemed so overjoyed at the site of the metallic shards. The Sovereign turned back to see the woman showing the little shards to all the animals around her and taking to them like family. Probably the only family the young woman even had. Phosphera took up the little case that held the Radeian up and opened it. Faster than she could blink, Sidio sprang from the cage and disappeared from sight.

A multitude of expression crossed the rulers face as she processed what had transpired. Though finally it was anger as she realized the scam that unfolded before her. She turned to release the pint up frustration at the young con artist but paused as she saw the young woman laughing at her. The cheek of this girl! However, the human was not the only one contending in this affair.

The animals seemed to snickering in their own ways. The Sovereign almost began a royal tantrum until the girl told her to touch her forehead. She did so and to her surprise and chagrin, she felt light fur.

Without any more words with the young woman, Phosphera picked up Sidio and placed him along her neck and placed the hood over them both. He seemed quite content with this arrangement. Its dark, lukewarm, and a good perch to watch if need be.

Moving on out of the market, she found herself at her original destination, Sidio firmly hidden ad hopefully asleep under her hood. The Universities of DeMaur were a center of learning that had never yet been passed by its rivals on the planet's surface. The buildings were quite unique in their design. While they looked Romanesque, the details around the columns and walls didn't depict the signs of roman influence.

The masses congregated in the main hall, a domed room designed after the Pantheon in Rome. The oculus in the ceiling illuminated the room and its decorations of frescos of the Oris' struggle for enlightenment. Statues of great philosophers and coinsurers of the arts found a home in the main hall of the collage.

The folk were not silent as they would have been on a normal day of operation. Nay, their voices seemed to channel through the oculus to make a whole new form of speaker technology. They were shouting, outraged at one thing or another in some corners and other politely discussing through clenched teeth their findings with their peers.

Phosphera's eyes greeted the light of the room with open arms and watched as several white coated scientist of several different races argued amongst themselves as they all quickly ran up the stairs, blocking something metallic from view as I past from view.

The room suddenly became a paradox of sound as the residents became eerily still as shouts and exclamations of anger poured from a deeper hallway. She pulled the hood of her cloak tighter upon her face. The congestion of profanity sounded dangerously familiar.

Sure enough, several Orians in tight body suits, each one a different color to designate their branch, swarmed around a person that she just couldn't quite see. What were they doing here? She wondered. Their press conference with the Minister of Defense would be within the next hour. Even by monorail, that would take at least another hour to arrive at.

The Orian Generals, while mostly comprised of males with their shaved heads, did hold a female in their ranks. Her hair was tied into a bun hat sat upon her head much like a malicious bird of prey. Unlike her male counterparts, the head of the Extraterrestrial Navy did not cry out in some outrage at the subject of their foul language. She was rather attractive in the increasingly high standards of the fairer sex. Her face gave not a single sign of ware or age to the light of day. Her lips were doused in some expensive lipstick, but that purchase did little when her lips had belayed themselves into a thin line of annoyance.

She was not tall by any stretch of the imagination. The femme fettle was slightly more vertically challenged than Phosphera, herself. However, as the Holy one had seen her in her youth, the general's form was still as sumptuous to the opinion of the masculine side of the race, if the general was included for such a pleasure.

Finally, a resounding crack forced quite down the throats of all. Phosphera couldn't keep her smirk back as she saw Mao; the newly appointed and ever arrogant Head of Terra Forces sprawled on the ground clutching his now broken hand. The perpetrator of the act did not stop to apologize to the young officer. The lab coated person strutted past the military leaders without a word.

Free of his in motion interrogation session, the man was now clear to her sight. He was shorter than even the EN General. Of course, he was not Orian or Human. Under his white lab coat, dark purple like leave things that denoted his alien heritage. However, when the scientist turned his back to her she saw something that did not just of a horticultural nature. Two fox tails, decorated with the color of age, poked out of the back of the coat. The top of the man's head showed a pair of thorn like appendages, like antlers, though a dark purple.

He rose up above the people on an energy disk. She smiled and wanted to wave to her old professor but the effort of the masquerade would be ruined. However, Phosphera had been under the impression that Dean Prower was the most beloved of the professor of the entire university. That said, she found it quite odd to see that the student body along with the staff became a cricket choir.

Lucas Prower had aged in years. Time had been his friend, but even friends take a little from each other. His Seedrian skin did not sag, but he paid his dues in one form or another. Lucas had once seen a sketch of what his namesake looked like and he matched the staple fairly well, though his fox tails did show his age rather well with the salt that had been added to them.

Silence reigned in the hall. No one spoke. No one moved. Many scowled. Prof. Prower smiled. He snapped his finger and a loud electric guitar blast erupted from the ceiling speakers. Everyone jumbled around in confusion for the act of the teacher. A few of the students and staff gave applause while others gave way to the act of confusion or intensified scowling.

"That got your attention," Prower said through his ear bud mike. "I have called this open house that I might discuss you with you a discovery of epic proportions." The dean's voice was not as haggard as one would expect from his advanced age, it had a pleasant sound that did not reveal his old self.

The room began to dim. Phosphera watched as several holograms began to encircle around the room. All too familiar senses from history, Orian history.

The planet of Ori centered itself in the median of the madness. Fires reaching to the sky, groans of agony could be heard even from the deepest reaches of the past. Phosphera watched the visual with long dried tears glittering in her eyes. Her teacher's on both Ori and Earth had shown her the history of the Black Wars and the build up to the conflict. Why was the professor showing old scars?

Giant comets circled through the skies, their malevolent magnitude shining the heavens with smaller objects flaring space. Stars and suns bent their light to the darkness that permeated from the armada. Ori kowtowed to the monstrosities that flew. The image enlarged and zoomed into the center comet, larger than all its brethren, topped with the beacons of satanic power.

Several of the young people started shake with rage at the image before them. They saw a young Orian, a child, a little boy, no older then sever torn apart, its body hacked and mangled in front of suffocating parents. Soundless cries echoed into the void of space, its companion's: blood, and gore. The caretaker of the madness and the patron of the child's death was a reptilian thing, like a raptor of Earth's ancient history. The black and red scales morphing into various articles, eyes, teeth, and even extra sinew at the creatures pleasure. Thick dark brown robes and bathed claws garlanded the reptile's person. Changing eyes darted out into the audience, looking for the next of the pitiful race to be its next toy.

Phosphera did not turn from the image the professor had shown. She did not make any movements for the procession to end, either. Phosphera did turn to see Prower watching the scene along with everyone else. He did not blink at the gore, nor did he bat an eyelash. This was old to him. She could not accuse him of a stone heart to the long dead child's suffering. He, himself, had suffered under the war with the creature that presented itself on the screen.

The image now showed masses of the under-creatures, reptiles, insects and other such aberrations of Lovecraftian nature. The beasts poured over world after world, taking with them the genetic codes of so many races. The rest were trash to the genetic perfection to be discarded the proper way, as rations. At the top of it all, even the robed reptile with his dish of sentient sauté, floated the master of this ballet of massacre sat the three eyed beast depicted in paint, in sketch, and even song as a forerunner for one of the Four Horsemen. Black Doom watched and raised his arms up in accordance with his children's' plaything, the universe.

The image faded away, much to the relief of the congregation that watched with tears and dark memories of the old days. Their fathers and mothers who could remember the last days of the rampages spook in horror. The crawling, the suffering, the devouring was too much for many to bear. Phosphera crossed her heart in the way she has once seen an Earth woman do. The maid wore the same symbol on her neck and said it was a blessing to ward off evil. She may have misunderstood the lady but the sign was more than welcome.

The virtual world now showed only an indivual of the beasts, the Black Arms, which had once plagued the universe. It was humanoid with reptile like qualities, no mouth could be shown but they all knew every Black Arms had a way of digesting its meal. The creative part came in at the initial stages. Its surrounding area had been blacked out leaving only the creature and a strange insignia that none could recognize.

"This specimen is in view from an undisclosed location," the professor spoke again, more of his years showing as he spoke. "This is one of the last known surviving Black Arms. For many years the beast has sat in the cocoon stat the many of its kind went into after the Rage. It has not moved, blinked or accelerated its heart rates to a higher point needed for extremely basic life functions. However, just two days ago, this specimen crawled out of its carapace and began to smash against the doors."

Murmurs flew from mouth to mouth about the disturbance. Many of the people had forgotten there were still Black Arms around. Even so, the few that had survived their self-annihilation had cocooned themselves for an unknown purpose.

The creature on the screen began to assault what sounded to be metal walls or even a door. Whatever the intended target, the result was the same. Electric arched across the scales of the beast but it did not relent in its anger. The rings of steel being dented in rang through their ears. After a moment or so, the Black Arms began to slow. The populace regained their calm conformity and smiles began to show. Before the beast collapsed onto the floor from shear exhaustion, it reared back and released a horrendous sound flowing from little mouth like orifices across his scales, like the ruffled feathers of a bird.

The creature fell like an elephant, to its side, its reptilian eyes vanishing behind mist of grey.

"That was a live example of the creature's activity for the last two days." The Lucas Prower moved his floating disk down upon the ground, a serious expression never leaving his face. "When I opened the video feed, it had been resting from a rather horrendous tantrum. A family will be notified." Gasp of anger and cries for the creature's destruction were immediate. Phosphera almost could agree with her fiery people. As a whole, they were people who personified passion. Weather that be the arts, anger, hate, or even the ancient hedonisms, their bread and butter was the fuel that drove sentient life to the pinnacle of civilization and destruction.

Her mind was not allowed to govern herself in such matters. She couldn't afford to lose herself in the heredity of her people and 'go with the flow' as one might say. No, the leader of the Ori had to be collected and practical to balance and lead the fiery people, lest they find themselves on the very road that had lead the Black Sons of Ildrama their infamous reputation.

"We cannot kill it," Lucas said, not even blinking under the duress of the crowd. "Would that I could, but this creature has never before acted as such. Energy is wafting of this Black Arms at such a rate, much like an old radio. Its calling for something. Would rather that thing its calling for, find us?"

The people silenced. Their rage only subsided by fear and anger of being scolded like a child. The dean turned off his microphone and called several of the university staff to him. Though many times his lesser in turns of age, these were the elite of the scientific community and more so his friends and comrade's. He spoke a few words to them and sent them off to parts unknown amongst the holo-books of the library.

Soon, the students and others began to disperse amongst back into the crowded streets of Machicv. Phosphera would have approached the professor but then she felt something in her neck. The ruler of Ori fleet weak in the knees. Something was biting her! Something was poisoning her! She fought the toxin with all her strength, all of the will her father and tutors had praised her for. She tried to channel the raging fire that flooded her veins out but no avail.

She fluttered her eyes as he fell to the floor. A collapse amid a sea of selfishness. None rushed to her aid. She was not worthy of their touch. The Holy Sovereign of Ori looked drearily at what had taken her to the dreaming dark. She looked and only could see strange, angled green eyes.

The world had gone dark.

**HEHE! It's all so confusing. I'll clear up some things just for you people out therewondering what the heck is going on!**

**Character ID:**

**Captain Majon Razor****: Young captain and commanding officer of the Orian science vessel, **_**Eltonweil**_**. He wishes for nothing more than adventure that he feels he deserves. His favorite hobbies are reading adventure novels and listening to powerful orchestral themes.**

**Lieutenant Osma Drozil: A Young botanist aboard the **_**Eltonweil**_**. He loves his wife with all his heart though this is known to no one other than said wife, Mem. He wishes to expand the field of botany in his war central race. His favorite hobbies include research and arguing with his wife.**

**Lieutenant Mem Drozil****: Young botanist about the **_**Eltonweil**_**. She loves her husband of four years and wishes to advance the field of botany by finding new species of plant life. She enjoys sketching and arguing with her spouse.**

**Holy Sovereign, High Lady Phosphera, Light Bearer of Ori: Youngest leader ever elected to the life office of Sovereign, she wishes for nothing more than to leave the damn job but cannot trust those who take her place to run the planet as it should be run. She enjoys nature, orchestral music and craves to finally leave the planet of Ori. **

**Well there we have it. The 2****nd**** chapter of Empire. I will tell you now, that Shadow will not appear. Shade and Crystal will and Sonia will as well. Almost all of the children will make an appearance and a few of the older characters will as well. Be mindful. **

**While Shadow will not be in this one, he will be the main focus again in Opposite Twins. Be prepared!**


	4. The Banished Prince

Chapter 3 The Banished Prince

The halls of _Eltonweil_ stirred quietly as the dreams of ambition rolled through the minds of the crew. Thoughts of praise and recognition found parapets and soared. The potential of the discoveries within discoveries had all congregated in the hold of the biomass that could be the yellow brick road to power and glory.

Osma slept silently by his wife with a wistful smile on his face. To celebrate their possibilities, the lovers had a little mixer and tuckered themselves out. He was sure that the captain would reprimand them in the morning, but his sleep would not be bothered by such things as the young officer's reproach.

However, while he slept in solace, Mem could not even close her eyes. She wanted to sleep. She felt tired, so tired, but she couldn't just fall under Orpheus' song of slumber. Not wishing to disturb her husband, she carefully removed her legs from the weave they had made amongst the damp sheets. Thankfully, Osma was a heavy sleeper unlike the captain who seem to wake from the slightest sound from the opposite room. She walked across the room, bare as the day she was born. Mem felt her skin glisten with goose bumps from the cool air. Ignoring the slight discomfort she grabbed a metal chair, sat it by the window, sat down and looked out in the darkness that space made 99.9% of.

As she looked out into the void from her quarters, Mem slightly wished they were back on Ori. These long voyages at space were only exciting at the beginning and when a new discovery was made. These four years off-world had made the young Orian woman long for solid ground beneath her, the sand between her toes, a home in gale of the wind.

_What a lovely thought._

Mem almost fell off the chair. Was that her thought or something else? She looked around to seen Osma still asleep, his snores synonymous with a sound of a Nicolin bear. Besides, the tone that had rung in her voice did not sound as gruff as the average Orian species. Nothing like she had heard before.

_I wouldn't have guessed many have heard my voice in some time._

The botanist turned and looked around the room. Other than herself and Osma, not a visual soul had entered the room. She calmed herself and pulled a knife off the dresser. The darkness of the bedroom shrouded everything in mystery. Mem remembered her study at the University of the Assassins that made up the Roloian Black Wind. If her new acquaintance was one of them, she would never have been the wiser. But why would the killer have a conversation with her mind? Could it be that she was just imagining this? Could this all be a hallucination brought upon by loss of sleep, sex, and small dose of alcohol?

_I wish. I haven't had any of those for many an eon. Though the alcohol would probably the most appreciated._

Where are you? Mem thought.

_Obviously not in the same room with you._

Her eyebrows furrowed. She had read in books of people being talked to by unseen forces. You read those things but you pass them of as fantasy; Funny things that could happen when you're buzzed. Again, Mem looked around the room for any hidden mikes. The possibility was not farfetched. Her sister had done something similar to her boyfriend and it was all on tape for their families' viewing pleasure.

_How I wish it was all just a novella. I could make an ending, a true ending that could suit me. The way the story of the last pure Son of Ildrama._

Mem brought her knife up. Ildrama! That was impossible! Both of the ancient empires that had spread from Ildrama had vanished epochs ago. The War between the two had destroyed a galaxy. Only one had come out the victor, completely whipping out the original race that had once populated the world. The Black Arms had then left their enemy in ruins to conquer what remained of the Old Empire.

Pure Son? Mem thought back. What do mean by that?

Hearty laughter came from the other end of the link. The young Ori tired to imagine the body the voice belonged to. She couldn't. The soft caressing of his voice seemed to defy her imagination as she tried to mold the sound into a persona she could understand. _My brethren, were eliminated from power ages ago. I am the last who remembers the glory days, when our ancient enemy had yet to be born. _

Her heart began to rise in pace. The implications of what he was saying were infallible. The Black Arms had wiped any trace of the Old People from modern knowledge. Only legends persisted. This could be the greatest discovery since the early days of space travel!

Mem slipped on some more science worthy cloths, and traded in the knife for her stunner in case some one interrupted her while she made the scientific leap of the millennia. The voice guided her to his location. He led her all over the ship. When she reached a point he would simply tell her to turn around so he could pinpoint where she was again. Though it was annoying, she could understand that while it appeared they were completely still, the _Eltonweil_ was moving at several light-years though the void. His mental powers might have the ability to track her at such speeds.

She thanked God that the ship was asleep. The last thing she needed know was any of the security patrol droids alerting the captain of her unauthorized jaunt through the whole damn ship. The noise would not only be annoying, but attract way to much attention from too many on edge scientist.

_Do not tarry,_ he warned her, calmly and coolly. _I cannot lose you to any form incarceration. You're the only one whose brainwaves were receptacle to mine._

Her heart soared. She had never felt so important, so needed. Her family had been pretty much well off. She had had to work every now and then for a little extra money to keep in middle school but otherwise, her life had been relatively easy and dull. Now, someone needed her. For what, she did not know. At this point, she didn't care. This could be here chance. As long as she could learn what she could about the Old Ones, this would all pay off in the end, consequences be damned!

_I like that about you._

Mem followed the voice deeper and deeper into the craft. He was getting louder. She must be getting closer. It was almost like he was echoing off the clean metal walls. However, as she got closer, no matter how warm and jovial he seemed, the Orian couldn't shake the feeling that she shouldn't be here; that this whole effort was wrong. Wrong in what way was completely unknown to her.

_Finally._

She turned a corner and gasped in shock. The door before her would lead the young scientist to her greatest discovery. She had been here earlier yesterday, as it was well past midnight upon the ship's clock. All that she could wonder was if? It couldn't possibly be what her mind began to entertain. The thought was ludicrous in the fact that it was substantial.

_You're a smart one._

In front of her, was the observation deck to the biomass.

The discovery of the millennia awaited her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

BEEP BEEP BEEP

There was no other sound in existence that was more annoying. It was the center of all creation's hatred. Why? WHY! Whoever had invented the blasted things should be drug out into space and thrown into a star. A hell of his own to populate after the hell he had sentenced the populace to after making a clock with the ability to shrill and sing and do whatever the hell was needed to wake the poor fool of person who had bought the damn thing.

He took his left arm and smashed his hand on the thing. He hoped it didn't break like the predecessor. The last thing he needed was to go out—God forbid that ever happening—and buy a new one. This one had served him deviously well the past three years and though it was really an incarnation of Satan, it worked.

He pulled off the sheets and stood onto the water. His room had been decorated so that there was an illusion of there being water right beside his bed for him to walk on. The fabrication had been a big hit at parties, that was, of course, when he still entertained. He could make the scene be anything he wanted. The best part was that he could make it appear to be anything. The black sand of Goyip was one that strangely enough didn't get used as often in his home as it had been advertised it would be.

Nevertheless, he stretched and entered back into the days worth of troubles of living as a hermit. Though, he thanked the thrice damned fame and fortune of his that he didn't actually have to live in a smelly cave like a real hermit. He would make especially sure that this was never a stinky hole. Not the best thing for public hygiene.

He put on some pajama pants and a t-shirt with the words 'screw you' emblazoned upon it in Russian. He had bought the shirt a couple of years ago under a different name so the delivery people wouldn't ask for autographs. Too much of anything was bad anybody. Publicity was one thing one should have none of. He could live perfectly without it, thank you very much.

With a wave of his hand, the blinds furled away to reveal the double suns that reflected light onto his moon. The vision before him was defiantly worth the billions he had spent on it. Though it was as barren as his home planet's moon, the biosphere he had set around it with the help of several now deceased scientist, made about three percent of the floating wasteland habitable paradise.

He was glad that he hadn't needed any medical add-ons. Lucas was much more outgoing than he had ever been. He had never understood why the dork even needed the thing. His arm worked just fine without it.

Sighing, he scratched his fur. He really should get out more. Scratch that thought. He should really just call up everyone from the old days. Man, that makes me sound old, he thought as he straightened his quills in the mirror. He wouldn't let his all hang out like some of the hooligans that flew around his moon trying to get pictures for the paper.

With much coercing from his own conscience, he picked up the ear bud and began to mentally dial the number. He shouldn't be doing this. She'd never let him hear the end of it to begin with. He hadn't seen her since his last showing. That hadn't done her pride any favors.

"I wish they would invent these things where I could punch you through the speaker."

He smiled. She hadn't changed after all this time. "Thanks, sis, always nice to wake up in the morning to such a comment."

"Well," she said taking on that too-sweet-for-words voice she had used _Pause Lock_, "You might have a morning on your little space paradise, but on Ori, we like to go to bed around this time. Thank you!"

"Thanks for the exposition, Crystal. I thought you would be happy to hear from me after all this time."

A laugh barked from the other hedgehog on the line. "Time? More like forty years. Be glad you still have your looks going for you, little brother. Otherwise you'd be the most unpopular man in the universe!"

Her brother smiled. "I could live with that."

A sigh came across the line. "Did you have a real reason for calling us? Lucas has a meeting with the Holy Sovereign tomorrow and I would like to spend my day off not sleeping a hangover I know you'll force me to get."

He laughed. "Am I that bad news to you?"

Silence reigned upon the phone.

He ground his teeth. "Fine. My idea of a Fortress of Solitude doesn't really work.

"And?"

"And! I'd like you and Lucas to come over here. A little get together."

He could see her smiling on the other end. "Are you sure we won't intrude upon your work?"

He scowled at the jib. While he hadn't painted anything in a while, that didn't give her the right to do that. "I'll be fine. Just come over after his meeting."

"What's the magic word?"

"Bitch."

Crystal laughed. "That's probably the best I'll get from you. Oh, and, Shade?"

"Hm?"

She must have hesitated. He bit his lip dreading she would say it. Don't do it, sis. I can't stand it.

"They would be proud of you. Especially dad and—

Shade shut off the call. He wouldn't hear that again. Not when they're six feet under. Don't think like that! He chided himself. She wouldn't—NO! Don't think about it. It will only bring pain, pain that should have dulled after all this time. The bastard that said it must have been a sadist and a moron to begin with.

The Son of Shadow took the phone out of his ear and put it on the table. He wanted to just smash the thing. He wouldn't be such a child. But still . . . It was tempting.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

So soft. He loved it. Her flesh was so supple. Soft like that of the softest Mezion silk. Nothing could compare to this. Though, he couldn't see her as his eyes closed from the tired of their lovemaking. The night had done something wonderful to him and he just couldn't describe it fully.

The evening aboard his home had been made into a flurry of sheets and love, of keys to doors that open new possibilities for them. He couldn't let it go. Now, he had taken the plunge once before when he had asked her to marry him. He would do so again. This time, it would be different but no different He would ask her to continue their difficulty. They would end the problem now. They would have a child.

Osma opened his eyes. There was not the young beauty whom he had married a year before their voyage out into the vastness of space. Only blankets in a mired of chaos remained. The Orian tossed the sheets off him and scanned the room. The darkness did not shield the fact that Mem had left the room. Going commando, he went over to the her notepad to see if she had left any note for him not to worry. She wouldn't leave otherwise. She was too responsible to just leave without informing him.

There was no note.

He checked the room for any signs of struggle. Though he had been in the same room, he knew that his problem of heavy sleeping would have kept him from hearing anything. Everything was set the way had been before they had gone to 'bed.' He took up a light tube and shined the vertical light down on the floor. There was nothing overtly disturbing on the floor. He lifted it around again, wait! The chair was not at the desk anymore. He turned frantically. Even the slightest detail could lead to where she was. The char had been turned backward, back facing the space that loomed outside the plasma window. Osma bent down and inspected legs. There was no binding around the legs of the damn thing.

Osma checked the rest of their room. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. "Mem!" he called. He expected some form of note, a letter, a lock of her hair, something! No, all he got was a chair facing the wrong way. That tells one all they would need to know where their naked wife was!

Naked! Osma almost barfed at the thought. She wouldn't go out naked would she? Her cosine might be a nudist but she would be appalled at such an action. Her clothes were gone so that gave him two theories, one he could hopefully throw to the wind: one, she had lost semblance of sanity and was walking around the ship, her clothes in hand rather than on her body. Second: that she actually had put on the clothes.

"I must be going out of my mind," he started to go to the door, but he had a thought. He grinned at his own cleverness. They had installed a security camera that only directed itself to her computer instead of the ships' so that they could keep watch over their room and for kinkier waves of entertainment. He picked up her electronic notepad and entered into the system of the camera after skipping the explicit sections he saw that Mem had gotten up, and started talking to thin air, naked.

That was new, but four years of space travel could do that to a person. He watched as she slipped out of the room. The clock on the camera showed that she had gotten a thirty minute head start on him.

Grabbing a stunner and the notebook, Osma ran from the room! He ran down the halls not caring to avoid any of the security measures. Soon enough the entire ship was alerted that something was off.

Osma didn't notice that the scientist were appearing out of their rooms, bleary eyed and in various states of undress. He ran past them all looking for his wife. Security drones were strangely absent but he never gave it any thought. There had to be more going on her that the fact that his wife had just gone for a nighttime stroll.

The Ori passed the cargo hold but for once his eyes saw something worthy of his attention. Light shone out from the doors but ht lights had been shattered and the glass strewn across the ground. He started to the door when—Ouch! He bit his lip in pain and looked down. The glass had stabbed his bare foot. He could not stop now. Grimacing with pain, he moved on.

He swiped his hand across the door. It slid open to disclose his worst nightmare.

"Mem!" he breathed.

She stood there, or truthfully, she floated above the ground, her eyes glowing red. Malicious light shone out from her. He could feel thoughts brushing up against his mind. Memories of his own childhood mixing with ones he did not remember. Worlds of old, worlds and battles where mortal and the supposed immortal fought for the right to rule. How dare they! He thought with a rage that he had never known before. We are perfection! We are the ultimate force of life and death!

Osma shook his head to clear the thoughts. Where they came from did not mater. All that mattered was getting his wife back. He approached her and tried to take her down by the hand. The instant their skin touched, a jolt shot through him rocketing him back.

Osma didn't feel himself hitting the steel wall of the hold. He opened his eyes and saw in horror his life ambition and the love of his life together in a horrible union. He saw what was going on or at least the outward surface of it. The biomaterial that had once been contained in a plasma window was free and tentacles had wrapped themselves around Mem and were sending pulses of electricity through her body. She did not scream. She had screamed when he had entered the room. The pain had turned into cries of joy. Laughter. He felt angry and he didn't know why. He felt something his profession had never made him come in contact with: bloodlust.

The botanist licked his lips and looked for something, something that could stop the urge. Only one thing would fit the bill, one body with fresh flowing blood.

He lunged at the laughing form of his wife. He never got close. He was sent back into the wall, but Osma didn't care. Blood oozed from his forehead where the skin had broke. The scientist didn't even bother swiping it away as it went over his eye. Letting out a bestial snarl he attacked again. But this time the effect would be different.

A hand grasped around his throat as his vision cleared. The red had left his sight. He looked at who held him. Mem grinned as she tightened her grip. She blinked. Her eyes were green and red. "Well, well," she spoke in her voice, but her voice was matched with another, more ancient and more primal, "it's been sometime since my power has escaped my grasp like that. I'll need to be more careful." Osma tried to speak, but she only tightened her hold on her husband. "Tired, need some help, little Osma," she cooed. "I'll bring you out of your shock!" Osma screamed again as the electricity surged into him from those eyes. Those hate filled eyes.

Suddenly the pain stopped. He gasped for breath as he fell to the floor. He tried to open his eyes but now it was too painful. That didn't stop him from hearing it all. Sounds of laser discharges. "Pesky Ori. Your weapons are of no consequence to me. Your drones have been deactivated. What game shall we play now?"

**For those of you who don't know, I've been planning his return since I wrote Legacy. I just could get rid of him. Umbra is awesome! Now, on to other matters. I apologize for the time it took to write this. I've been swamped with school projects and my book Ravenloft. **

**REVIEWS!**

**White Keyblade Oathkeeper****-Yep, I'll be changing scenes a lot as will be a lot taking place over a lot of space in the universe. Hope you enjoy.**

**Flowergirl220- Phosphora will appear just give it time and her life is about to take some nasty turns. Oh and just to let you know, Shade will be a lot different in this story than he was before. A lot can happen to a person in 400 yrs. **


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